The Inspector Who Lived
by Katherine NotGreat
Summary: TRANSLATION of our co-written Russain-originated story. Follows CaptainHookgirl's "Famous Last Words". Post -anime AU. The life of Inspector Javert starts to change in a quite unexpected way afetr his visit to Valjean's grave...
1. Chapter 1 The Graveyard

"Valjean…Time after time you have been escaping from me, and now… this time you escaped me for good…I've got so much to tell you, but you can't hear me …or can you?"

Javert sighed wistfully, then put on his top hat and turned away. There, near the grave, stood Cosette, her husband, and a tall, lanky boy that looked sowhat familiar to the inspector. There was no place for Javert among those people. Frankly speaking, he wouldn't even be able to explain to them his very presence in the graveyard.

The group of people at Valjean's grave looked so united, that Javert's own loneliness hit him harder than ever. He felt a pang of jealousy towards the Pontmercys, who were supporting each other in their loss, making the mutual grief less hard to bear, and whose right to be present at this place they stood couldn't be questioned by anyone.

"And what about you, Valjean? Do you also think there's no place for me here? Or don't you? Thank you …for everything….and forgive me. Forgive me, if you can."

Javert's character wasn't prone to mystics of any kind, but the very atmosphere of the old cemetry made some impact on his mood, and he slowed down his steps, as if waiting for some answer, or rather sign from the other world. Suddendly he froze on the spot, having heard a quick sound of high-heeled shoes behind his back.

"Inspector Javert! _Monsieur l'Inspectuer_, please, wait!"

"Madame?" He turned arouned, looking at the hurrying young woman with his trademark unfathomable expression, the very same he was wearing during their previous encounter, when anxious and worried, Cosette pleaded him to help her to find her father, who had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. At that time, he didn't look compassionate but still agreed to help her. That's why now Cosette was by no means intimidated by Javert. She trusted the severe inspector.

Cosette, now Baroness Ponmercy, has grown to be a beauty, and looked just like her mother, whom Javert still remembered quite well – unfortunately, he possessed a memory of a professional. But now the young woman looked far from beautiful : red eyes and swollen lips and nose didn't become the fair-skinned blonde at all.

"How can I help you, Madame?" , Javert repeated in a stern voice, while Cosette was trying to regain steady breath after her unexpected race. "Any problems?"

"Yes…I mean, no…all is well, Inspector. I…_we _just wanted to invite you for dinner."

"What for?!" Javert was stunned.

"In memory of Father, of course", Cosette looked surprised. "He would have liked it."

"Yes, Inspector, we shall take no refusal", added Maruis, who has by now reached them. " Our family is so much indebted to you…"

" You have no debts as far as I am concerned, _Monsieur", _was Javert's blunt answer. He felt no sympathy towards young Baron Ponmercy.

"Don't beat about the bush, okay?", the teenage boy interrupted them. As soon as he spoke , Javert recognized him immediatedly. Gavroche! Has somehow survived, the lucky brat, and, moreover, now was hanging about with the Pontmercys. The former street urchin has grown up quite a lot since Javert last saw him at the barricades, and now looked well-groomed and dressed properly.

"Gavroche!", Cosette reprimanded the outspoken teenager.

"They all are mad!", Javert thought, somewhat frightened. "Perhaps Valjean's madness is contagoius, after all!".

He was more than surpried to hear his own voice, answering:

"Thank you. When am I due to come?"


	2. Chapter 2 The Memorial Dinner

"… Monsieur l'Inspecteur, give me your plate, if you please! You have eaten so little! The pancakes turned out all right, thank God, just as M. Jean liked them – thin and crispy…."

"Do eat already, will you?", the boy smirked. " You are no ballerina to be on a diet!"

"GAVROCHE!"

Javert absent-mindedly let Toussaint , who was bustling around like a true Martha, to refill his plate. It came to his mind that should he be a frequent guest at this house, he'd soon resemble, at least in appearance, his boss, Prefect Gisquet, who was by no means slim. Immediately he reminded himself: "They only invited you out of politeness. Only as a tribute to Valjean. " Strangely for him , the thought aroused a feeling of bitter dejection in his heart.

The inspector has never been the one for socializing, and now was feeling definitely out of place. Not only because of the change of enviroment (although, he had to admit, the newly-weds' nest was far more comfortable and cosy then his "old bachelor's" room), but mostly because of the hosts' attitude towards him. Why did those people, all of a sudden, invite him to share their meal in memory of his "best enemy", and , moreover, were now treating him…_so friendly?!_

As far as he remembered himself, Javert has always been on his own. Solitude was his shield, his second skin, clinging to him like his old great-coat. He was so much used to it, that couldn't imagine things being different, and now, sitting at the large table in the midst of the Pontmercy family, felt like an oyster taken out of its shell. And, really, taken out of shell he was! Still, while he was shifting the remains of the notorious pancake around the plate, Javert wondered whether it was necessary to take old habits into his new life. Perhaps, "strange" and "different" didn't mean "wrong" anymore. Perhaps it was not by chance that he got there…His glance fell on the silver candlesticks on the table and suddenly a warm feeling has grown withing his soul and wahsed away all doubts and bitterness. "Yes, it's Jean Valjean himself present here, " he mused. "Even after death he continues to spread his influence around…"

Suddenly he got aware that everyone else at the table stopped talking and were now looking at him. It dawned on Javert that the hosts were waiting for him to say something about the deceased.

Like Valjean, Javert was a man of action, not of words. He was no speaker, especially when "metaphysics" were concerned. However, it would be rude to say nothing at all, with everyone looking directly at him, and so he stood up, more slowly, than usual, and once more ignored the lump in his throat.

" I am not sure I have the right to speak about…about the deceased…", he started hesitatingly (which was almost unheard of ). Words just refused to come out of his mouth.

"Inspector , of all of us present here you are the one who has known M. Jean the longest…", Marius tried to fill the awkward pause, and obviously doing a poor job of it.

Javert cringed but didn't gave the young lawer (whom he personally would never hire) any of his usual snarky comments.

"Known him, you say, M. le Baron? No, I cannot be so self-assured as to claim I have _known _him! _Known him_, really! Is there even a single person here who has a right to say that he or she truly _knew _Jean Valjean? "

Everyone kept silence, even Gavroche, who was until that moment occupied mostly with the food, as if trying to compensate his hard childhood.

Javert, suddenly realising that he has gone too far, paused as well.

"I…I beg your pardon, I am not really much of a speaker, but all I wanted to say was that Jean Valjean was indeed a man too great for be discussed in a small talk. You, M. Marius, have just said that I have known him longer than the rest of you, and it might be true in one aspect, but did I really know him? I have been chasing him for almost twenty years, I might as well have been his shadow, but all my assumptions about him were _**wrong**_. I believed him to be a dangerous criminal, and he turned out to be a saint. I loathed him, while he respected me. I dreamt of putting him back in jail, and he …(Javert flinched at the memory)…he saved my life, nay, he turned down my world topsy-turvy and gave me a _new life. _He was a great man, that's all I can say about him. That's about all."

Javert sank back into his seat and emptied his glass of wine in one gulp, looking exhausted as if he had just crossed the English Channel on his own.

"Yes, Inspector, I think you are right", said Maruis, looking rather humbled. " I believe, no one truly knew M. Jean, no one but God. At one time, just after the wedding, I'm afraid I , too, have wronged him…"

"Yeah, brother Maruis," , Gavroche at last found his voice, "Acted like an ungrateful pig, that you really did!"

" Gentlemen, please don't quarrel!", Cosette implored. "I, for my part, was often ungrateful and unfeeling and foolish either. But Papa, as M. Javert has just said, was a great man, and he never held grudges. He often told me that every man is God's image, and that we should learn to look past the exterior. He loved people, and love covers multitude of sins. Even now, the very fact that we , being so different, are present here, under one roof and at the same table, is not a coincidence. I firmly believe that Father _wanted _to bring us together for some reason. You know", she was now looking at Javert, who was obviously lost in thought, " Papa often told me that it is not right for a man to be alone….it's even written in the Scriptures…"

"….That's why…", all of a sudden Gavroche interceded, "we have discussed it between ourselves and decided to…"

With that prase, the boy quickly ducked under the table and soon appeared again, carrying something big, white and fluffy.

"Take it, it's yours now!", he announced to the Inspector, dropping his burden to the unsuspecting guest's knees.

"M-mine?!" was all that the flabbergusted Javert managed to utter, while the being in question was examininig his cravate and sideburns. "And what, pray, is _this?"_

"Not a "what", but a "who", actually, " answered the boy nonchalantly. "A dog. A Pyrenian mastiffe. It's a puppy from our own Chou-Chou, in fact."

" _A dog", _Javert echoed, numbly staring at the puppy, whose attention now turned to the inspector's plate.

"Oh , no, don't feed him from your own plate, or he'll get used to it!", Cosette chided, quickly returning the impertinent puppy back to the floor, "Cadeau, stop acting like a bad boy!"

"Is _Cadeau _its name, then?" Javert was still stunned, "_A present_?!"

"Yes, it is, indeed.", the young woman gave him a small smile. " We have been keeping him for a while, and he couldn't go nameless."

"T-thank you", Javert finally uttered, while Cadeau, who, too, was overwhelmed with new impressions, has fallen asleep on his boots. "But, you know…I never owned a dog.."

"No big deal, Inspector", Gavroche waved a hand , nearly overturning a plate of fruit on the table. "'Tis a shepherd's dog, and they are easy to keep and clever as hell, you know!"

"Language, Gavroche!", Marius reproached , "you should have said "very clever", or "surprisingly clever" !

"All right, all right, bro!", was the boy's answer.


	3. Chapter 3 The Gift

It was already late when the Inspector was finally on his way home. Sitting in the cab,with the overfed and sleepy puppy on his lap (however small now, it was sure to grow up as huge as its father, Chou-Chou) , he wondered about many things, and how to convince his landlady to take in a new and furry "tenant", and where to place the puppy during his working hours were not the only ones. The Ponmercys' instructions of how to take care of Cadeau were now blurred in his head with another dominant thought – that he has just probably passed the happiest, most peaceful day in his otherwise bleak life. He had never felt so light-hearted as he did now. Javert wondered whether it was due to a slight intoxication but quickly dismissed the idea – two or three glasses of wine weren't a great deal for a strong grown -up man like him. No, the cause was a different one: those people were geniunely _glad to see him! _Even the impertinent boy no longer looked hostile. It was really something new for Javert: he knew that he was not generally a likeable person, and most people shared the same idea….until today.

….Next morning during Javert's report to the Prefect, M. Gisquet suddenly interrupted him:

"You don't look well, Javert. Are you ill? Or have you again been up all night working? Do have some pity towards yourself, no matter what some folks believe, you are not made of steel, for goodness' sake!

" I , indeed, slept little tonight", Javert looked somewhat confused. "But not because of work. It was the puppy."

"_The puppy?!", _Gisquet thought he had misheard his subordinate.

"Yes, sir, the puppy", Javert, to the Prefect's horror, made an uncertain smile. "It was a gift from my …acquaintances. You know, it turned out that this animal is always hungry while it's not asleep, and it…relieves itself constantly , when it's not eating…"

"But whom have you left it with, then?", asked the Prefect with concern in his voice.

"Errr, I left it alone, actually", Javert shrugged his shoulders, somewhat vexed. "I did leave it some food and water, but…"

"It's not good to leave the little one behind, Inspector, or he'll got scared, being all alone", Gisquet shook his head in disapproval. "You'd better bring it over here, and I'll bring along my Marquise to take care of him."

"_Marquise?", _Javert looked puzzled.

"Yes, that's my hound's name. Hunting is my old hobby, didn't you know? She's quite an old girl already, ten years old, and, being four times a mother, adores the little ones!", Gisquet laughed good-naturedly.

It was well past midnight when the doorbell at the old Gillenormand's manor suddenly rang. Sleepy old Basque went to open the doors, and was rather surprised to meet a much-worried and confused Inspector with Cadeau wrapped up in a blanket in his arms.

"Beg pardon for my intrusion, Monsieur le Baron…Madame…", he addressed the surprised couple, who had just hastily dressed to meet the unexpected visitors. "But I was afraid that in the morning it would be too late…"

"What's going on?", asked the sleepy Gavroche, also coming out of his bedroom.

"Cadeau…he is ill…", Javert muttered, looking very anxious.

"But what has exactly happened? Please, Inspector , can I have a look at him?"Cosette quickly ran downstairs and took the puppy (who was now much heavier than she remembered) from Javert. Its nose was dry and unhealthily warm.

"You know, yesterday I was on duty and he was left to his own devices…", the Inspector looked unhappy, "…so…at first, he has chewn my cane – left almost nothing of it! – then he tried the table's leg and then..then he felt sick…"

" Spew, you mean? Ouch!", Gavroche felt Marius pinch him. "I wanna say, did he vomit?"

"Almost ten times!", Javert desperately exclaimed, "Is he…is he going to die?", he pleaded the hosts, looking at them in panic.

"Oh, no, M. Javert, I'm sure it's not as bad as that", Cosette reassured him. "He is about three months old, right? It's just his teeth changing, you know, that's why he's chewing anything he can find. "

"Yeah, that's right!", Gavroche added. "When our Chou-Chou was his age, he did just the same and then spe…ouch!, I mean, felt sick!"

The Inspector felt an immense relief, which was written all over his face.

"You know what, Monsieur?", Cosette said after thinking for a short while, "Do stay here tonight! We'll accommodate you in our guest rooms. It's really very late. And tomorrow after work you could go and take all the necessary things from your quarters , and then return back here. And Gavroche could take care of Cadeau whlie you are at work, could you, little brother?"

"For sure!", answered the boy solemnly.

Bewildered, Javert looked carefully at the people around him. Marius' face expression was benevolent and neutral, Cosettes's – affectionate and kind. As for the boy…he just smirked impertinently at the Inspector and made a funny face.

"Do stay with us, M. Javert!", Cosette delicately touched his shoulder. "It would be better for Cadeau, it's not good to leave him alone, at least while he doesn't yet feel well!"

"Ah…Yes. Yes , of course. Thank you", was Javert's somewhat incoherent answer.


	4. Chapter 4 Sounds of Music

Several months later, on a fine spring Saturday evening, Javert again appeared at the Gillesnormand's manor gates. It wasn't exactly planned by him,but, somehow, he went out and just found himself has already taken a habit to pay visits on wekends, and sometimes even more often, when he was off duty, although, if asked by anyone, he would surely say it was all Cadeau's doing, following the routine track.

Having learnt from Basque that neither Marius nor his grandfather were at home, he wanted to take his leave, but suddenly heard sounds of music from the smaller sitting-room and went up to investigate. And then just stood still, as if frozen on the spot.

Cosette was playing the pianoforte. The music that emerged from the keys of a fine old instrument was divinely light, almost etherial, and definitely otherworldly. It was the famous "Moonlight sonata", written by Ludwig von Beethoven more then twenty years before, but Javert was ignorant of the fact, as his own world and the world of music have never, until now, collided. Frankly speaking, Javert's world (before recent events) had been rather too simple, two-dimensional and lacking many things, art being one of them. But the previous year the old world crushed down, and on its shabmbles there was now slowly, but steadily,being built a new one, in which, due to the family under whose roof he was present at the moment, life was anything but dull or predictable.

"Oh, hello, M. Javert! I am sorry, I must have got carried away by my music…I hope I didn't make you wait for long?", the hostess exclaimed when she finally noticed the tall dark figure in the doorframe.

"Beg pardon, Madame, but I think it was actually me who got carried away, as you put it, " Javert still hasn't yet returned "back to the Earth". "That music…I have never heard anything of the kind. You play very well."

"Oh, but you are exaggerating, Monsieur!", Cosette blushed, still not used to taking compliments for granted. " In the convent they taught us music, of course, along with other things "proper for young ladies", but many girls were much better students than I!"

"You said "convent"?", Javert asked, frowning.

"Yes, until the age of sxteen I have been a student of the convent boarding school. Have I never mentioned it? Strange indeed, we have known each other long enough by now…I thought you must have heard…" Cosette was a little perplexed.

"Wait!", it dawned on the Inspector. "Wasn't that convent, by chance, named Petit Picpus?"

"Yes, it was. But…"

" In that case, I am a fool."

Now Cosette was even more perplexed than before.

"But why?"

" Because I should have known it, taking into consideration that there wasn't anything impossible for that man! I should have guessed, but I didn't, and , therefore, failed!"

"Pardon, M. Javert," Cosette finally got the point, " I think I understand you . But…do you really regret the fact _now_?! That you failed to find Papa and me back then? That we didn't get arrested?"

There was so much innocent surprise in her eyes that Javert , overwhelmed, looked away.

"No, Madame, ", he answered quietly. "I do not regret it **now**. And not only because of Val…your father. You, too, deserved a better fate than to be put into a state-owned orphanage.

"Do you think I'd be worse off there than in the Thenardier's inn?"

Javert flinched as if he has been slapped. He almost forgot lately that not only his childhood had been an unhappy one.

"No, I don't think so", he muttered, still not looking Cosette in the eye. "But, in the orphanage… although you would have been at least fed and clothed…it would have still been a far cry from a happy childhood, especially for a girl. I, myself, had been brought up in one of those institutions, and , believe me, Madame, I would never wish such a life for _you._ But do forgive me, Mme. Pontmercy, I must have invoked some bad memories…"

"It's Euphrasie, M. Javert"

"Beg pardon?"

"My given name is Euphraise. "Madame Pontmercy" or "Baroness" sounds too cold and official, as much as "Monsieur l'Inspectuer", and we are not strangers…not any longer…at least I think so, _n'est-pas?"_

"If you say so… Euphraise, " echoed Javert.

" And please", Cosette went on, "don't look at me that way, as if you were guilty in what had happened in my life. You didn't even know of my existence back then,when I was placed at the "Sergeant of Waterloo". And as for my life with the Thenardier family…who knows, _what _would I become, had they chosen to bring me up like a daughter of their own! What lessons would I have learned from them? Unlike Gavroche, who has always been a rebel and a fighter for justice, I am not a strong person, nor a strong-willed one. He, on the contrary, managed to become a good man , in spite of his parents,", she paused, taking a good look at the Inspector, who appeared to be lost in thought, "…and you, M. Emile, did just the same. And that's why I admire you both!"

Javert froze. It was the first time in decades that he heard someone calling him by his Christian name.

"You wouldn't admire me at all, Mad…Euphrasie, if you only knew more about me and what I had done, ", he said in a bitter voice, turning away to the window, his hands behind his back by habit. "You would turn me out of your house, and would be right in doing so! If you only knew the truth about your mother's death and my part in …"

"Enough!" Cosette raised her voice, which was almost unheard of. She quickly crossed the room, coming closer to the Inspector and looiking him straight in the face, which now, for once, lost its usual stoic mask. "Please, don't ever say or even think so! In fact, I _do _know the truth about my mother – Papa told me while he was still alive – and I do know that she couldn't be healed, not in her state of health, and she would still die even if you never approached her in the first place! It's bad enough that Papa believed himself to be the cause of her sufferings for so many years, and I will never, _never _accuse either him or you, do you hear me, ?", the young Baroness had a determined, strong –minded look, almost out of character.

Javert felt his hands slightly trembling.

"And besides", she added more calmly, " butterflies never live long, you know…"

"I don't understand…", Javert was geniunely puzzled.

"You see, I have very few memories of my mother, but one, the most vivid of them is the momory of our travelling to Montfermeil, along yellow fields and bright meadows, with butterflies flying to and fro…In my mind I always thought of mother as of one of those butterflies, beautiful, but fragile. The butterfly's life is bright but short, and she cannot live through cold, winds and rains …neither could my mother, being not for this world. Strong persons endure the tribultations and become stronger…and the weak…" she sighed wistfully, "they got broken by them. I will always love and remember her, but she would have never been able to bring me up like Papa did. I don't mean M. Tholomyes, of course, but my _true Father."_

"Jean Valjean", the Inspector whispered.

"Yes, of course. Oh, but I miss him so much!", Cosette cried.

"So do I", Javert answered without a second thought.

"I am glad you can understand me, then. And I hope", she again looked kindly at Javert, "I hope _I_ can understand _you_ a little better now, M. Emile! Really, you once said that God, through Papa, gave you a new life. You are no longer the man you were back in Montreiul-sur-Mer, so it's high time you let the past go…"

"Go where exactly, sis? I've only just returned!", Gavroche burst into the room with a schoolbag on one shoulder and a guitar on another. "Oh, hello, Inspector! Are you, too, in for a lecture by Cosette? Just like her to make a man sit still and listen to those endless dull concerts…"

"Good evening to you, too, Gavroche! No, I wasn't lecturing, but I will now, if you continue to forget knocking before entering…And where, pray, did you get_ that_ from?" Cosette was now back her usual self.

"Oh, I got it from Jose, he's in my class at school . We had an exchage, sort of, and besides, he doesn't enjoy playing it any longer, and as for me, I'd like to learn to play very much, " he looked meaningfully at Javert, "but neither Marius nor Cosette would teach me, they only play that huge monument"…

"Look, boy, let me take it for a moment", Javert, all of a sudden, took the instrument he thought until now he would never willingly take into his hands, as a reminder of his Roma background .

In spite of his being decades out of guitar practice, Javert professional memory never failed him.


	5. Chapter 5 Camaraderie

(_Several years after the previous episode)_

The Inspector had a day off, so he devoted it to household chores, in particular, to doing his laundry. Having rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, he was busy washing and wrinsing when Cadeau, who had been dozing by the fireplace, suddenly jumped up and galloped to the entrance door – a sure sign that someone whom he knew quite well was coming over. A moment later the doorbell rang, and none other than Gavroche entered the small parlour. The lanky teenager has recently grown even taller , and now was fast shooting into a young man.

The unexpected guest glanced at Javert, who was still holding the bucket full of wet shirts, and his brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Didn't know you could do the laundry, Inspector!", Gavroche was definitely impressed.

" I can do many things, enough for not to be a burden to others and not to depend on hired help", was Javert welcome answer, while he put away the bucket and went to the kitchenette to make tea for them both.

"No offense, but isn't washing a female –I mean, woman's job, Inspector?", the youngster looked somewhat puzzled.

"And what of it?", Javert dried his hands by a towel and stooped to fix the kettle over the fire. "It's nothing wrong in doing what is considered to be woman's work by yourself, it's far worse to turn your flat into a hovel by neglecting that sort of work. When I was young, I couldn't afford a maidservant, so I got used to do everything by myself. But then, surely you didn't come all the way here to dicuss housekeeping, did you?"

The truth was that Gavroche came to the Inspector, because he really needed a piece of advice from an intelligent grown-up man who could tell him something worth hearing, and , although it took him some time to change his mind, he came to consider Javert exactly that. What he didn't know, though, was how to start the conversation about his problems.

While he was pondering, Javert took the teatray and put it on a small table. On seeing his favourite snacks being served, Cadeau looked up, his mouth watering instantly.

"How d'you manage to keep him in such a small room, Inspector?", the teenager wondered, caressing the thick white fur of his four-legged friend. The friend in question , in return, threatened to drown his buddy's face in saliva.

"To your place, Cadeau!", ordered Javert,throwing a piece of cheese to his pet. Having swallowed the piece in the air, Cadeau retreated back to his corner near the fire.

"Ain't he huge, eh? Even bigger than his daddy, for sure! By the way , you know, our Chou-Chou is getting really old, doesn't run or jump anymore…", Gavroche observed wistfully.

"How old is he?", Javert asked, inwardly flinching from the thought that in five or six years Cadeau will no longer be young either. Until he got a dog, Javert never fully realised how lonely he used to be.

"Lemme see… I was three when Cosette and I found him…so he must be fourteen, I reckon", Gavroshe counted.

"So, that means _you _are now seventeen, then?", the Inspector looked up.

"Yeah, and that's where the problem is", the youngster fidgeted in his chair, "I'm finishing school this year, and what next? Marius says I need to get ready for the University, and I..I guess I 've done enough schooling by now, at least for my own liking. So, I'm trying to work out what to do after school, sort of…"

"And what does Euphrasie say?"

"Cosette? But, Inspector, she's a girl…I mean, a woman! Not that I don't value her ideas, but what on Earth can she advise me? She hasn't got no experience in career choices, I'm afraid."

"And what can _I _possibly advise you?", Javert shrugged his shoulders. "I am neither teacher nor mentor, and certainly not a good choice for a father figure", he added in a softer tone. "As you know, I've been single all my life, and had never had children. Only a dog, and even that was your doing", he gave Gavroche a slight smirk.

"Oh, as for starting a family, it's none too late for you, Inspector!", the impertinent boy smirked at Javert in return, then adding in a more serious tone, "You know, I've been thinking a great deal lately…what if I choose to work in the police force? What d'ya think, M'sieur Javert?"

A strained silence hung in the air. Javert looked into his guest's eyes, and was struck by the sudden realisation that Gavroche, actually , very much reminded him of himself at the same age. It was weird, just as if he was looking into the eyes of his own seventeen-year-old self.

"I think", he finally uttered, "that it is not a very good idea. You know nothing of what it is to be a policeman"

"Then maybe you could drill me , Inspector, so that I'd know _something_ at least_?", _was the boy's nonchalant reply.

"With pleasure", Javert stood up and began pacing across the room. "Imagine your superiour receiving a bribe and letting go a dangerous criminal whom you have arrested, risking your own life. Imagine a lawyer, deliberately failing the case in court, and a murderer or a thief being released and left unpunished. And, finally,", his voice grew more bitter, "imagine for a moment _yourself _making a mistake, …a grave mistake, ruining someone's life…and perhaps not even one person's life, as all people are interconnected, and then having to go on living with that guilt, going on doing your job, chasing away the gnawing thought that you may, in future, make another mistake, costing more lives, but still continue to fulfill your duty and to stay sane…" he stopped, his eyes clouded and face expression unreadable.

"But still, Inspector", Gavroche said quietly, "someone has to do this job, right?"

"Yes, someone has to", Javert sighed, as if exhausted by his speech. "But why should it be you?"

"And why should it have been _you, _M'sieur, in the first place?", Gavroche didn't give up.

"My choice of career was rather…limited, to put it mildly", Javert answered after a short pause. "You, on the contrary, have more opportunities…"

"Such as living at my foster brother-in-law's expence, you mean?", the teenager defiantly straightened his back. I'm not gonna be a burden on his or Cosette's shoulders, thank you very much! I'm not a little boy any longer, Inspector; I'm a man and I can do a man' job, and a respectable one, too!"

"In this case, you chose the wrong path, boy. People generally don't like or respect those who do dirty work for them. If you crave for respect or glory, you'd better get enlisted into the Legion. ", Javert shook his head.

Gavroche's eyes flashed fiercly.

"It's you who got me wrong, Inspector. I don't give a damn…sorry…I don't care for glory, or other folks' opinion and all that stuff. What I want is justice, and I won't be myself if I miss the chance to fight for it! I do know life ain't…_isn't_ fair, M'sieur Javert, but I also believe I can make it more fair, so that guys like my so-called daddy wouldn't think they can do what they want and get away with it! And I believe there's a chance I can do this job right", he added in a quieter tone, "especially if you help me."

Javert only stared at the boy, as if again listening to his younger self. Despite his better judgement, he was truly moved.

"In this case", he said in dead earnest, but using a tone more gentle then usual, "you are welcome!"


	6. Chapter 6 Epilogue N1 (for goodshippers)

Epilogue N1 – for goodshippers ( **timeline set between chapters 4 and 5) Warning : hilarity ensues!**

"Marius, you are an idiot!"

"Come on, Inspector, that's old news indeed! You call me that at least once a week! High time to think of some new , fresh insult for me!"

"Do not flatter yourself, young man! No more than once a fortnight, I believe!"

"Do you write it down in your journal each time, then? Besides, M. Javert, today is a special day for us, and as we all have gathered to celebrate…"

"Well, considering today's festivities, I'll make a slight alteration to my previous statement: Congratulations, M. le Baron, I am happy to inform you that you are an idiot!"

"All right, all right, Inspector, but do at least enlighten me, what wrong have I done _this time?"_

" As if you don't really know!"

"You won't believe me, but I don't. Moreover, I believe you have just claimed my intelligence to be non-existing…"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you. And don't digress from the point! How could you, pray, to name your child – your first-born- _Jeanne-Emilie, _of all names?!"

"But what's wrong with it, M. Javert?"  
"Everything is wrong with it!"

" I beg to differ. It sounds quite nice.."

"_Nice?! _If you wanted the girl's name to sound "nice", you had better name her after some sentimental ladies' novel heroine!"

"With all due respect, Inspector, we are not the Thenardiers to name our children after "ladies' novels heroines! "

"And so you decided that it would be a good idea to name the baby after two most unlike people possible?! Euphrasie, you are a sensible woman, do tell your husband to change his mind!"

"Umm, actually, Monsieur Emile, that was originally my idea…"

"So much for your sensibility then, young lady! And don't give me _that look! _What were the two of you thinking about?! What if the poor girl has an identity crisis? What if, getting older, she has got a split personality? And if she doesn't inherit Valjean's and my own virtues, but quite on the contrary? And if she, God forbid, grows up to be _a blonde?!"_

"Oh no, M. Emile, it won't do to think of future in such a gloomy way! Why not think of something positive, as, for example, there will now be another living soul to care for…"

"Exactly! See, you said it yourself! Just what I need – another soul to care about! As if that big furry disaster wasn't enough…"

"That "big and furry" being has got a name, by the way, Inspector!"

"…As if the dog wasn't enough, now your foster brother has got it in his head that I, of all people, am a good choice of a mentor! I believe I now see him even more often than the two of you do! And now , above all, a newborn Mlle Potmercy!…Yes, of course I am a man of duty! If that hideous name remains, I _will _be responsible for her well-being, no matter what. But if you think it's a good idea to make me babysit…."

"Oh, M. Emile, now that you have mentioned it yourself, there is indeed a point we wanted to dicuss with you , concerning our daughter…"

"Yes, Inspector, the point is that we – Cosette and I – would be happy to have you as Jeanne-Emilie's godfather , as we really couldn't think of anyone better suited for…"

"WHAT?! You….I…."

"_Salut, _folks! What's the matter? Sorry, but your faces aren't exactly festive…"

"Oh, Gavroche, you came at last! Do sit down. No , nothing bad, it's just Inspector got some problems with digestion…but I hope it will pass soon…and,oh, you have brought company with you?"

"Well, sort of. That's my friend, Nicole Garnier, she's in my year at school, only in the girls' class. Nicole, that's my foster sister Cosette, and her husband Marius, and that's Inspector Javert – he's a cool guy, despite his being a cop! - you'll see when you get to know him better…Oh, by the way, hello , Inspector! Wow, that's weird, I thought Tossaint's cooking always agreed with you!"

"?!"

"Well, of course I care for your state of health. We are all a family here, by all means! Oh,_salut_, Cadeau, look what I've got here for you…"

"_Perhaps it would have been better for me if I had been shot at the barricades!", was Javert's somewhat incoherent thought before his passing out…_


	7. Chapter 7 Epilogue N2 part one

**Epilogue N2, for the "Mesalliance Team" ** ( "canonists" are warned!)

_Timeline – several years after Epilogue N1_

"Monsieur l'Inspecteur, let me fill your plate, if you please! The pastry turned out perfectly, thank God, just as young Master liked it…"

"Thank you, Toussaint, but don't exert yourself. I am capable of serving myself, thanks."

And so it happenes again, and the sense of _déjà vu _doesn't leave him, as he is sitting again at the same great table, like eight years before, when he first stepped into this hospitable house to pay tribute to his "best enemy". And the pancakes, like then, are served again. "It really becomes a tradition, and not a good one, " he thinks with bitter irony. And he, Emile Javert, is again a "man in black". First Valjean, then (last year) old M. Gillenormand, and now, quite unexpectedly, his grandson, "young master" Marius Pontmercy, whom he, surprisingly, in years gone by, came to regard as a close acquaintance, if not a friend. Thirty years old is rather too early to meet the Eternity, Javert muses, especially for such a stupid, absurd cause as pneumonia, but then (his thoughts switch to the Friends of the ABC), Enjolras was about twenty-five years old, and most his comrades-in-arms were even younger than that. But those students,at least, believed that they were dying for the Right Cause….

He, however, albeit no longer young ('never thought I'd live up to the age of sixty, my word!'), and in spite of his frequent narrow escapes, is still among the living, and even still trying to fulfill his duty. He has long outgone his rank's age limit, but the new Prefect, like his predecessor, pretends not to notice that fact, and every year tries to convice Javert to get promoted to the comissionary's post, and each time the Inspector politely but firmly declines the promotion.

In his department they call him "an eternal inspector" behind his back, and sometimes even in his presence . "There's no such thing, gentlemen, every inspector dies at some point", he usually retorts with mild sarcasm. Those who are hostile towards him, surprisingly few nowadays, nicknamed him "Javert The Immortal" ( "Hope not as a tribute to that hideous skeletal evil warlock from the "Fairy Tales from All Over the World" that Jeanne-Emilie has read quicker than I did", he adds to himself). What country was that scary tale from, by the way? Russia, I guess…(here he shivers, as if again feeling the ruthless winter cold, like many years ago, back in 1812 during the Grand Army's retreat from the mysterious country that even Buonaparte failed to conquer).

Unlike in earlier period of his career, Javert is now more respected than feared and the number of his enemies has diminished considerably, alongside with a surprising (at least for himself) rise of number of lower-ranked officers who claim to – something unheard of- admire him and try (not very successfully) to copy his methods and sometimes even his mannerisms. A mentor for youngsters, indeed! When did it all start, Javert fails to remember. He had always been too busy to notice such trivialities. But then…even his change of attire (the old great coat was really _old! _and that new black leather one just came in handy_) _provoked a new wave of well-meant jokes ("_The Dark Knight_, my word! "), most certainly inspired by none other than Gavroche. No, not _just_ _Gavroche_, the impertinent ex- street urchin, but Sgt. Detroismaisons now (well, while Javert could understand the boy's reluctance to use his birth surname, he snorted at the mere length of that weird alias).

Gavroche and the police force…Enjolras would roll in his grave if he were to hear about it…But nevertheless, the boy's craving for fighting and justice (or fighting for justice) didn't disappear with years, nor did his loyality to both the Inspector and his dog, and that loyality could be surpassed only by that of little (not so very little anymore, he reminds himself, she has just turned seven) Jeanne-Emilie Pontmercy…

"Godfather, am I an orphan now?"

A pair of big blue eyes is looking at him with heart-wrenching, almost unbearable trust.

"No, Jeanne, you aren't . You have still got your mother and younger brother and Gavroche…and..well, you have got me either."

"_You will never be alone, Alouette. Your childhood won't be like that of your mother or like my own. Lord will remove this bitter cup from you."_

"Yes, but who will be the head of our family? Now, when Papa is with God, and Grandpa Luc too, and Grandpa Jean has already been in Heaven for so long, I can't even remember, as I wasn't born yet… Oh, I guess I know! It will be you, Godfather!"  
"_Me?!" _The girl's bold observation managed to catch Javert unawares, which was next to impossible. 'But _why?!"_

"But of course it will be you", his goddaughter went on, "You are grown-up, and a man, and you are _alive! _And Mama won't manange it on her own, she needs a man'support, and Georges-Luc is still a wee little whelp…"

"_Jeanne-Emilie Pontmercy! _Who taught you such words? Communicating too much with Uncle Gavroche, I see…I will give him a piece of my mind! You are a lady ,and a future Baroness…"

"No, Uncle Emile, it's my brother who's going to be a Baron when he grows up. And I will become a travelling princess, taming dragons…."

" I already feel pity for those dragons!"

"…and rescueing knights who got themselves in trouble"

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way round , Jeanne?"

" Well, some knights _are_ very lonely and certainly need help. And I don't need to be rescued, I can defend myself, and Mama and Georges-Luc to, until he is grown-up, you know!"

"Of course I know, since it was I who taught you!"

"…You know what, Uncle Emile? Why don't you come and live here with us? I think it will be better for everyone, and Cadeau won't be alone when you are at sevrice. And I can…Oh, Godfather, you turned so awfully pale, just like that poor knight from the book! Hold on, I'll run to the kitchen to get you something…"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Oh, words cannot express how I hate that stupid old bitch!", were the cheerful words of Sergeant Detroismaisons (or simply Gavroche), when he entered – no, rushed into the unsuspecting Inspector's doors on a Friday evening.

"No shouting or swearing on _my_ territory , Sergeant!" Javert barked, too surprised to be really angry. " Calm yourself instantly and tell what's the matter – _in normal language_!"

"Well, Inspector, I don't know how to tell about it without swearing, " Gavroche closed the doors and heavily plunged into the old chair, which loudly protested against such poor treatment. "That's all about that nosy old maid, Mlle Gillenormand, Marius' aunt. You see, she's put into her head to settle in a convent, the death of both her dad and nephew being too much for her and so on…"  
"And what of it? Not a rare decision for middle-aged spinster…"

"…But on the verge of her taking leave, she thought it her duty to preach to us about what's proper and what not! Like, now that Cosette is a widow, it's improper for her to live under the same roof with a single young man – that's me, you see! – who isn't blood-related to her, so she insisted that I have either to marry Cosette – the nerve of that woman! – or to seek other living quarters! And of course she doesn't bloo…"

"I said _no swearing!"_

"…she doesn't care a pin that Cosette is like a sister to me, and I will only EVER be her brother, and that Nicole and I have already settled the wedding date for the end of the year, when the mourning is over and I turn twenty-one, and that we've been in love with each other since school – what's all that to her?! She 'll be redeeming herself in that quiet little nunnery, and all of us, due to her, are in a complete ars…I mean , in a complete mess! " He took off his headware and threw it into the room's corner in frustration .(The aforesaid room , we must observe, has seen him as a guest at most different hours of day or night in the years gone by).

" So it's all about you and your love life now, isn't it?", Javert sneered, suddenly getting angry. "And not a word about Euphraise, to whom you owe a life debt, in case you forgot, and who is now widowed and left on her own with two children and no experience in managing the accounts or any ideas what to do with the Gillenormand's legacy? Some good brother you are, Sergeant, whining about the unfairiness of life, while _she, _on the contrary, doesn't allow herself to wallow in self-pity!" It didn't occur to him that his anger wasn't towards Gavroche, but towards the dubious society opinion, for which Cosette will always be an oddity, no matter what.

"You know what, Comrade Inspector?", Gavroshe was suddenly struck with a crazy, but awesome idea. "I reckon it'd be better for everyone if you just go and marry Cosette yourself! " He even got up fronm the chair, amazed by his epiphany.

"Are you delirious, stupid brat?" Javert's ire could only match his utter surprise. "Do you even know how old I am?!"

"Well, being lower ranked than you and still a freshman in the police, I didn't have the chance to check your passport, Comrade Inspector, " Gavroche now spoke quieter, but more seriously than usual. " But I don't really care. And I reckon Cosette and kids don't care either. Honestly, M'sieur , I wouldn't trust any other guy who'd dare to approach my sister. But as for you, I can be certain you won't ever betray her . You are the man who can be trusted and relied on, and you are _one of us. _Oh, " the youngster suddenly rushed to take his leave " I reckon I'd better be going now. Well, see you soon, Inspector, and consider words, _s'il vous plait!", _and, having snatched the maltreated bicorn from the corner, the young _gendarme _was gone a second sooner than the Inspector's cane hit the door closed behind Javert's impertinent self-appointed apprentice.

Overwhelmed by the heated intercourse, Javert sank into the same old chair Gavroche just left. For the first time he felt all his sixty years, and perhaps even older, burden of responsibility suddenly growing almost unbearable upon his shoulders.


	8. Chapter 8 Epilogue N2 part two

In the solemn ancient cathedral , built ages ago , in the times of crusades, on one of the carved wooden pews there sat a man clad in black. He was tall; his hair, once jet black like his greatcoat, were now salt and pepper; his lined,austere face, tale-telling about his long and hard life road, was far from being handsome according to traditional society standards, but his rigid posture was a fair sign that he wouldn't be called an old man in another twenty years or so.

The man – none other than Inspector Javert - was obviously deep in thought. Now that Euphrasie Pontmercy was widowed, he couldn't just go on visiting the Gillenormand manor as he used to do while Marius was alive. That could compromise her in the eyes of the neighbours and the society in general. But to stop visiting at all, to leave the girl…no, woman on her own – that was out of the question. Because he gave an oath to Valjean to protect his daughter, because he still felt himself guilty for Fantine's death, because…Because he now truly _cared – _even got _attached_ – for the young woman, her children and even to that imp of her foster brother. Strange indeed, but with years he came to consider himself to be _one of them. _He belonged with them now, even if it still seemed odd and almost unbelievable to the inspector himself. And should he be deprived of their company – _her company – _the solitude, once so familiar to him, would be just unbearable now.

However, that was what troubled his mind: how could he pretend to be acting in Euphrasie' s best interests, if his own motives were somewhat selfish?

To tell the truth, he _wanted to _protect her and the children, and he _was capable _of doing so, especially now, when , after Pontmercy's will had been opened, a flock of gold-diggers was sure to attack the young widow, one half of them being gambling men, and another half – frequent visitors of brothels. But what could he, Emile Javert, possibly offer her beside his protection?

Euphrasie had stirred a foreign feeling inside Javert for which he had always believed himself to be utterly incapable of. He never, even in his thoughts, used the word "_love", _ as in his mind it was associated with naughty plays and dubious novels, _Moulin Rouge_ and cancan and other frivolous things.

He would never think anything improper of Euphrasie, who was in his mind an angel of pure beauty, a fresh flower fragance, an etherial heavenly melody…

Not for the first time he imagined himself – an old, life-beaten bloodhound, walking side by side towards the aisle with _her – _still young, beautiful, fragile like a porcelaine figurine, and snorted at his own impudence. Should this odd marriage occur, those aware of his Roma background would surely think he'd put the bride under a spell. In his opinion, no other two people on Earth could be more different from one another. And there still was another point to consider…

Euphrasie had been married for love; had been happy in that marriage, and what of him? What did he, Javert, know about happiness? Could someone like him ever be loved?!

"And what, my friend, do you know about why people love each other?", he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind his back.

Javert startled. On the pew next to his there sat none other than Jean Valjean himself. But the change in his appearance was great. He looked no older than thirty or so, and his overall appearance was not that of a Faverolle pruner, and certainly not of a convict, but of a respected scholar, perhaps even a clergyman. His young face , very handsome and kind, was lit by an inner light.

"Hello, my friend", he smiled at Javert, holding out his hand for a shake, and his smile was spreading like a stream of melted gold.

"Wh-what is this?…", Javert was at a loss for words.

"Glimpse of Our Lord's glory", Valjean answered light-heartedly. His handshake, however, felt like a human one, warm and soft.

"And why are you so…" Javert wanted to say "looking so young", as if it was the most important change.

"Oh, that!", Valjean's smile grew wider, his eyes shining bright,"THERE we are all of the same age, thirty-three year old – me, Fantine, Enjolras, even Monseigneur Myriel…"

"Thirty-three?"

"Yes, Our Lord's earthly age", Valjean explained, shrugging his broad shoulders and revealing some sort of golden cape floating behind his back – _or were that wings?!_

"Valjean , what is there above, I mean, THERE?", Javert whispered in awe.

"Come on, I'll show you. Hold on!", Jean took his hand and they stepped through the golden mist that covered them both and found themselves…SOMEWHERE.

Later on, when he tried to remember the detalis of that mysterious , otherworldly encounter, Javert could never rebuild a whole picture of what he had seen. He only remembered some glimpses, like pieces of some grand puzzle; Chou-Chou (buried and mourned by the Pontmercys a year earlier) running up to meet them; a group of young horsemen greeting them, their horses magnificent and free from saddles or reigns; a beautiful, kind woman smiling at them, her face being that of the love itself , and a stunned Javert himself, hardly recognizing Fantine in that celestial beauty…

Javert had never been a good-natured person, even in childhood, and while he hardly ever thought about afterlife at all, he never imagined the Celestial City being ther place of joy and happiness. But THERE, during that strange journey, he felt geniunely happy, joy overwhelming his heart as it never did before.

"You see, everything is different here", Valjean excalimed, rejoicing, as if he had read the inspector's thoughts. His cape, by the way, did turn out to be the folded wings, after all, Javert noticed.

"Do these bother you?", he asked a stupid question, then, unlike himself, laughing at his own stupidity. (Of all questions to ask in such a place!) He had never felt so light and carefree before as he did here.

"No, they actually don't", Valjean chuckled. "You see, I didn't change instantly either. There is no such thing as Time over here, but those who just arrive are given some period to adapt… It's a pity I cannot show you the house I lived in before the change. Alas, we must return…"

"Where are you dwelling now?", Javert asked simply.

"In the same adobe that my namesake , St. John The Charitable is," Valjean answered. "When baptized, back in Faverolle, I was named after him, you know. And know I must take my leave.."

"Wait!" Javert cried out. Usually he prided himself for the ability to speak shortly and meaningfully, but now it seemed that the ability had forsaken him . "Euphrasie… Cosette… I think I love her!", he finally said it out loud, surprised himself that it was pure truth.

" And she loves you as well, my friend", Valjean replied, not in the least impressed. "Albeit not in the same way as she loved Marius. But then, there are many facets of love… In other words, you have my blessing!" With those final words, he disappeared.

…Javert opened his eyes. A donation-gathering volonteer, passing by the inspector'pew, looked at him in alarm, stricken with awe. Javert wondered how on Earth he could frighten the law-abiding citizen so much, then put some money onto the plate, not being aware that his own face was imprinted with a glow of heavenly light.


	9. Chapter 9 AN

Dear colleagues,

Actually, in the original Russian variant I did have one more episode (J/C conversation scene), but, oddly, I don't feel like translating it tight now, maybe because I sort of put too much of my own heart into the original, that scene was really too dear for me (and too personal) to remake it in another language. If it's stupid in your POV, perhaps later on I could try once more to redo this J/C dialogue in English.

Best wishes,

Kate (Ekaterina)


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